


Weak and Awake

by angelicaschuyler



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, QPQVerse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6686998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicaschuyler/pseuds/angelicaschuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would be different if he was drunk. Not excusable, not even easier to explain, just – different. The girl had come onto him, though. That – that’s not his fault. She’d eyed him across the bar, bought him a drink, led him out to the patio. Kissed him first, even. All tongue, an offer of something more – an offer he might’ve accepted had Eliza not pulled him off. Slapped him hard right across his cheek, too. QPQ Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For a Tumblr prompt that asked for QPQ verse cheating. SORRY.

“You have to tell him,” Eliza says, clutching her steering wheel and staring straight out the window, chest rising and falling in time with her rapid breathing. “Alex. You have to.”

Alex keeps his arms crossed tight against his chest. He’s watching the numbers shift on Eliza’s dashboard clock. 1:02 a.m., 1:03 a.m., 1:04 a.m.

He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. He gags on them, instead.

“We should drive,” Eliza says, icily. She leans around to grab her purse from the backseat. Alex just falls back in his seat, eyes closed, trying to feel – something.

It would be different if he was drunk. Not excusable, not even easier to explain, just – different. The girl had come onto him, though. That – that’s not his fault. She’d eyed him across the bar, bought him a drink, led him out to the patio. Kissed him first, even. All tongue, an offer of something more – an offer he might’ve accepted had Eliza not pulled him off. Slapped him hard right across his cheek, too.

“You have to tell him,” Eliza repeats not ten minutes later as they drive toward Alex’s apartment. “How am I supposed to look at him – look at Martha – knowing?”

Alex looks at her. Her soft profile glowing in the passing streetlights, blindingly white teeth deep in her bottom lip.

“Poor you,” he spits, unable to stop himself. And Eliza tenses, slowing the car slightly. “It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything. He’s the one too busy to even –”

“George is the _president,_ ” Eliza snaps, slamming on the brakes for a red light. Alex grips the side of the passenger door to steady himself. “This is hard for all of us. You’re fucking up something that’s already fragile. I’m not losing Martha because of you.”

Alex stares at the light, waits for it to turn green. When it does, Eliza breathes in slowly and keeps driving.

“If you tell him now, he’ll forgive you,” she says, softer. “He has a good heart. He loves you.”

Alex presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and shudders, tears prick at his eyes and – yes. There it is. The guilt settling in.

“He leaves for London tomorrow,” Alex says, cringing at the way his voice breaks. “For a week. I can’t – ”

“Alex,” Eliza says, firm. And he knows what he has to do.

 

* * *

 

Alex finds George in his private study the next morning, sitting in front of his laptop, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and a mug of coffee in one hand. He grins when Alex opens the door, shutting his computer and jumping to his feet.

“Hey,” Alex says, voice shockingly even. He shuts the door behind him and angles himself so George can’t see the fading red mark in the shape of Eliza’s hand. “Are you – are you looking forward to London?”

George smiles and quirks an eyebrow. They’ve talked about London plenty of times now that there’s no need to rehash hours before his flight, yet it’s all Alex can manage.

“I wish you could come,” George says, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Have to hold down the fort here,” Alex says with a weak smile.

George nods, sets his mug down. “I was thinking we could all go together soon. You, me, Eliza and Martha. Once this is all over. Maybe do a trip all around the British Isles – ”

“I was with someone else.”

Alex braces himself and takes a step back, though he knows George – even at his angriest – would never lay a hand on him.

“It was just a kiss,” Alex says, forcing himself to watch the way George’s jaw sets, his face scarily impassive. He just wants to close his eyes, or tell him through a door. “Last night. She came to me, but I let her – I – I know this London visit has been on your mind a lot, that you’ve been stressed, but Eliza wouldn’t let me – I couldn’t _not_ say anything before you left – ”

“Eliza was with you?” George interrupts.

Alex turns his head and shows him the hand print on his cheek. George only nods.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, and for some reason, that’s when he looks away. “I love you and I’m sorry.”

“We only have nine months left in office,” George says, and Alex hears the break in his voice.

 _‘Have,’_ Alex’s brain supplies helpfully, and he holds onto that. _He said ‘have,’ not ‘had.’_

“I’m not as strong as you are,” Alex says, reaching around his back to fumble with the door knob. “But I just miss you. I’ve been in a weird place lately, without you, and you haven’t been there, and it’s not your fault, I just –”

George steps forward then, crowding him against the door and grabbing his wrist, pulling his hand away from the knob. Alex bows his head and presses his forehead into George’s chest, trying to catch his breath.

“I have to go,” George says, quiet, and Alex sinks against him. “We’ll talk more when I come home.”

“Are we breaking up?” Alex says, tilting his chin up to look at him. George shakes his head.

“Not unless that’s what you want,” he says, stepping back and straightening out the front of his suit with one hand and breathing out a sigh. Alex can sense he’s concealing, that there’s a significant amount of hurt under that tough exterior. But he won’t be able to break through it before he leaves. “I’m – I _appreciate_ you telling me now. But I need to know if this has ever happened before, and you just failed to mention it without Eliza forcing your hand.”

Alex winces. But he deserved that. “No. Never. I promise. And it’s not that I wouldn’t have told you – it just all happened so fast – ”

George holds up a hand, so he stops talking.

“When I come home,” George says. “We’ll talk.”

“OK,” Alex nods. Pauses. And then, again – “I love you.”

George steps forward and kisses him on the forehead. He smells sweet – like his coffee. Alex waits to hear him return the words, but George just reaches for the door and slips out of the study quietly.

He’ll have to work. But he’s up to the task.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Alex sees George exactly twice the week he returns from London. He’s constantly being shuffled from meeting to meeting. And that’s typical, but it still makes Alex feel restless and on edge, knowing it’s been five days and they still haven’t talked like George promised they would.

He’s alone in his apartment, preparing yet another dinner he’ll eat alone when there’s a gentle knock. The door squeaks open and Alex freezes, one hand still clutching a fork as he peeks out into the living room.

And there’s George, locking the door behind him, an overnight bag in hand.

“What are you doing here!” Alex says, suddenly filled with a joy he hasn’t felt in months. He jumps forward and takes George’s bag for him, resisting the impulse to move in for a kiss. No. He’s going to have to work up to that. 

“Called in a favor,” George says, toeing off his shoes as Alex drops the bag next to the couch. “I’m here until 5 a.m.”

Alex nods. It’s not like the Secret Service is in the dark - they certainly wouldn’t be doing their job very well if they didn’t know about them. They’ve done this maybe three times over George’s nearly eight years in office. It’s not a decision he ever makes lightly. 

“I’m making dinner,” Alex says, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the next, not quite looking at George, but off to the side at a picture frame mounted on the wall behind him. The photo’s from the Inaugural Ball – it’s the four of them, Alex pressed against George’s shoulder with Martha’s arm snug around Eliza’s waist. All smiles. “Well, re-heating dinner. You hungry?”

“Not right now,” George says, sitting on the couch and extending an arm out to Alex. “Come sit with me?”

Alex swallows and nods, curling up on the cushion next to him, not quite touching. He can almost feel the nervous energy radiating off of George. It’s silent for a moment until George bends over and starts rummaging through his overnight bag. 

“I got you something,” George says, and Alex’s heart sinks. 

“That wasn’t necessary - ”

“Look,” George says, pulling a small box out of his bag. Inside is a tiny Queen of England doll, dressed in a pastel dress, one hand raised in a wave. Alex can’t help but laugh.

“She’s solar powered. You put her on the window sill,” George explains, setting the box down on Alex’s coffee table. “And when the sun hits her, she waves at you.”

Alex grins. “You brought me back probably the touristiest gift you can find in London.”

“It seemed like something you would appreciate.”

Alex laughs again. He’s not wrong. “I loved all those pictures of you with the Prince, by the way. You and babies - well, it’s always kind of been my weakness. You know that.”

George smiles, a little forced, and Alex feels the tension shift – just marginally. He glances away, hoping his voice won’t falter.

“George – ”

“Can I start?” George interrupts. “I had a lot of time to think things over – ”

Alex shakes his head and climbs back up to his feet. He can feel George’s eyes following him. “Do you mind if I stand? I’m just – I’m nervous. You know? Like, you thought things over, this is the part where we break up, right? I – ”

“You can stand, that’s fine,” George says, soft enough to make Alex stop talking and listen. “But just let me start. I’m not breaking up with you. We’ve been together for over a decade – I don’t want to lose you, Alex. What I want to know is why you don’t seem to want me.”

Alex’s shoulders stiffen, and he can feel his face growing red with something like a mix of anger and shame. That’s not fucking fair – he knows George is backing him into a corner on purpose. And he has every right to, it’s just – it hurts.

“I do want you,” he says. “Yeah, it’s been more than a decade or whatever, but you _know_ nearly eight of those years have been hell for us. It’s been two years since we’ve woken up together. Five years since we’ve been on an actual date. And each time there are so many strings that have to be pulled.”

“Do not pin this on me,” George says, whatever shield he’s put up, cracking. “Going in, we both knew this would be hard. And I’ve told you, time and time again, to _tell_ me what’s on your mind, so I could help – ”

“But we never have time _to_ talk!” Alex cries, raising his voice. “I fucking _cheated_ on you and it still took you almost a week to come to me –”

Alex watches George’s hands twitch and then clench into fists in his lap. Then he’s on his feet, towering over Alex. Somehow, Alex keeps his chin up, eyes on George’s, his breathing steady, though he’s sure George can hear his pounding heart.

“Did you think coming here was easy?” George asks, pulling himself taller, making Alex feel smaller as his voice only continues to rise. “Not only are you my boyfriend, but you’re my chief of staff. You, above everyone else, know that I’ve done the impossible to try to make this work! That I’ve risked _everything_ for you! Frankly, Alex, it’s insulting you would even suggest any of this is my fault. Just because you’re too proud to admit this is all on you!”

Alex steps back, putting some distance between them. And George is right. As fucking usual. He doesn’t deserve points for admitting to it – confessing doesn’t mean he can dodge everything else he’s fucked up. He sees George deflate a little. He looks timid, almost.

“I shouldn’t have yelled,” he says, taking a step back as well and clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re allowed to be mad,” Alex says. “I messed up. I’ve never been in love like this and I’ve fucked up every other relationship I’ve been in, so when I felt you slipping away, I don’t know, it was just like second nature. Hurt you before you could hurt me. I’m not saying it was, like, I went out that night looking for someone – it wasn’t like that at all. But it just – it happened. I wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, maybe, but I was fine. Would it have been worse if Eliza hadn’t pulled me away and tried to beat the shit out of me? I honestly don’t know. I can’t say. But I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and apologizing just feels lame. You deserve better.”

George is holding back tears – Alex can tell. He knows him so well by now. Has had fucking years and years to learn every damn thing about him. He always swallows and looks up, just for a second or two, before composing himself. Alex wants to hold him – would hold him if he didn’t feel like he’d be pushed away.

“I don’t know why you waited to do this until we had nine months left in office,” he says, finally. “Only nine months, Alex. That’s what makes this so … that you’ve supposedly been faithful all this time, but _now_ – ”

“Not ‘supposedly,’” Alex interrupts, tears pricking at his own eyes now. “I was. This entire time. And I want you to stay, but if you can’t trust me anymore, it’s – I’m not sure if…”

He trails off and shrugs, knowing he doesn’t have to finish his sentence. George knows.

“That’s the thing,” George says, and he actually laughs and tosses his hands up, a sign of defeat. “I do trust you. And I want you. You’ve had eleven years to prove this isn’t you. I need to know this won’t happen again.”

“Never,” Alex says, immediately, stepping forward uncertainly. George meets him in the middle, places warm, strong hands on either side of his face. He holds him there a minute, unsmiling, before pulling him into a kiss.

Alex wraps both arms around his waist and breathes him in. When they break away, Alex presses his forehead into George’s collarbone, kissing just under it.

“I’m going to be better,” he whispers against his chest. “Better at telling you when things aren’t OK.”

George nods, running his hands up and down Alex’s back. “You know I can’t make any promises. These last months aren’t going to be easy, but I’ll do what I can. OK?”

“Yeah, OK.” Alex pulls back and looks up at him. “I’m going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Will you say it again?”

“I love you,” George says, backing him up against the living room wall, putting one hand under his thigh, lifting it up around his waist and pinning him with his weight.

“You said you’re here until 5 a.m.?” Alex says, his face growing red as his lips twist into a smile. “Were you planning on sleeping?”

George raises an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

“After this?” Alex grins, rolling his hips. “Dinner? And then do you want to just – talk?”

George lifts his other thigh, shifting his weight again to keep Alex from sliding down the wall. “Yes. Absolutely.” A kiss. “God. I’ve missed your cooking so much.”

“You won’t have to miss it for much longer,” Alex says, wrapping his hand around the back of George’s neck and pulling him back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [a-schuyler](http://a-schuyler.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr!


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